Taking Fantasia Prequel: The 12 Days Of Christmas
by sultal
Summary: Prequel to Taking Fantasia : Jim Hawkin's and Wendy Darling's backstory. How they first met as children. Complete.
1. Chapter 1:Friday December 13th

**sultal's note: re-read ****Chapter 63: Girl Talk from Taking Fantasia for the reference to this story (Jim and Wendy's back story). ****Chapter 95: The Chosen Three might be useful as well.**

**hope you enjoy**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Friday December 13th<strong>

_Hark! How the bells, sweet silver bells  
>All seem to say, "Throw cares away."<br>Christmas is here, bringing good cheer  
>To young and old, meek and the bold<br>Ding, dong, ding, dong, that is their song,  
>With joyful ring, all caroling<br>One seems to hear words of good cheer  
>From everywhere, filling the air<br>Oh!, how they pound, raising their sound  
>O'er hill and dale, telling their tale<em>

_Gaily they ring, while people sing_  
><em>Songs of good cheer, Christmas is here!<em>  
><em>Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas!<em>  
><em>Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas!<em>

_On, on they send, on without end  
>Their joyful tone to every home.<br>Ding dong ding dong..._

Wendy peeked through the banister. Tinsel hung like icicles, glittering from evergreen boughs. Candles twinkled like fairies in a red and green Christmas-bulb bubble forest. And filling the wonderfulness of it all was the music. The music!

Pressing her nose against the wooden rung, Wendy looked. Down the stairs, across the floor, to the door, through the golden crack…

Wendy smiled. Trembling with fear and excitement, she unfolded her legs. Extending a bare foot and placing it gently, she eased down the stairs. Step by delicate step.

"Wendy!"

Wendy jumped. The stairs creaked. She looked at the door. Through the golden crack, glasses chinked. Several notes of laughter played over the Christmas music. A shadow paused, wavered, then disappeared.

Heart fluttering like snowflakes in the wind, Wendy turned.

"John!" Shr pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh! Go back to bed!"

John crouched on the top step. Baby Michael was balanced on his knee.

"You're being bad!" John informed her, glasses perched at the end of his nose. "Father said no sneaking downstairs during the party!"

Wendy frowned. Ignoring John, she eased down another step.

"Wendy!"

She eased down another.

"Wendy!" Michael stirred as John bumped down the stairs on his bottom in hot pursuit. "Wendy! You can't go down there! Father said– "

Irritated, Wendy turned. "You are not supposed to take Michael out of bed, John Darling!" she retorted, backing down another step. She grinned a little, satisfied by the worry in John's face. "_Mother_ said so!"

John swelled. If he had feathers, they would have fluffed. "It is only twelve more days till Christmas, Wendy! And if you are not good, Father Christmas won't bring you any pre – "

John stopped. His glasses filled with gold light as the door suddenly opened. Simultaneously – and as only children can – Wendy, John, and little Michael rolled onto their haunches, scampered up the stairs, darted down the hallway, flew into the nursery, leapt under their covers, dove into their pillows –

"Oh my. Quiet as mice? Who can these darling, well behaved children be?"

Wendy slid open an eye. Imagining she was a fox, and thinking herself just as sly, Wendy peeked through the coverlets as her mother, Mary Darling, entered the nursery.

She gasped. _Her mother looked lovely! Simply lovely! _

Mary paused. Her eyes flicked. Wendy snapped her eyes shut. She froze, pretending to be asleep.

Mary smiled. Pink gown brushing against the carpet, she floated between her children's beds. Pausing to retrieve stuffed animals, tuck covers, and brush foreheads, she fought a mischievous smile.

"It is most curious….the strangest thing…" Mary continued smoothing the blanket around John's chin. She bit her lip, grinning as John's nose twitched. Turning, she replaced Michael's teddy bear in his crib. "…because. I could have sworn that I heard little voices on the stair well."

John giggled. Wendy curled her toes, cursing John. _Shhh_ she thought. Desperately, she squeezed both lids, willing John to maintain his composure. _Shhh! John shhhh! Pretend to be asleep! Shhhh!_

Mary cross the room. Carefully, she ran a hand over John's toes, fingers moving like feathers. "…I thought I heard the pitter patter of tiny, little, adorable, feet."

John burst. Giggle uncontrollably, he wriggled under the covers. Laughing alongside, Mary gathered John in her arms. "Goodness…well this is certainly a surprise."

John cuddled against his mother. His glasses – still on his nose – tilted askew. "I wouldn't have gotten caught if it was just me…it was Wendy and Michael's fault."

Wendy's sucked her breath. Heart playing leapfrog, she cursed John and waited for her mother's reprimand.

But it came not. Casting a glance at Michael's crib, Mary squared herself to her eldest son. "John dear…You are so thrilled to have a little brother. Aren't you, my darling?  
>John nodded. He looked at Michael with a fierce sort of pride. Like a military commander observing his troops.<p>

Mary's gaze was gentle, but her voice was firm. "You would protect your little brother against anything. Wouldn't you? You wouldn't want Michael to get hurt? Would you?"

Proudly, John nodded. Then, recognizing his mother's gentle scold, his face fell. "Sorry mommy."

Mary smiled. "Michael is just a baby John. So new to this world...so very tiny and cannot walk by himself. Only mommy should take him from his crib. We don't want Michael to fall right on his little head. Do you understand?"

Glumly, John nodded.

Mary regarded John. Then, she held him in a sympathetic hug. "Michael will grow up soon John…faster than you can imagine." Lovingly, she laid a cheek against his head. "Then, you will be able to play together…forever and long as you want." Removing John's glasses and placing them on his bedside table, Mary tucked her son under the covers. "And won't that be wonderful?"

John smiled. Breathing deep, he sighed as Mary stroked his hair. "…night-night Mommy…"

Mary smiled. Soft as an angel, she kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams my darling…Wendy?"

Wendy jumped. Surprised, she squeaked, spoiling her cover. Peeking through the covers, she looked at her mother, waiting patiently at the door.

"Wendy…would you come with me?"


	2. Chapter 2: Blue Christmas

**Chapter 2: Blue Christmas**

Guiltily Wendy followed her mother. Trailing after her like a baby duck, she kept both eyes averted on the shimmering pink hem. Wendy sighed. Remorseful though she was, she wished infinitely more that she had snuck into the party. If all the ladies and gentlemen looked like her mother…it would surely be magical!

Mary paused. She held open her bedroom door. "In you go."

Wendy obeyed. She waited at the foot of her mother's bed, watching the beautiful gown sway. Although she was in trouble, her transfixion with the dress made her smile. Her mother looked like a fairytale princess.

Mary turned. A halo from the Victorian lamp glowed over her ringlets. "Wendy?"

Wendy couldn't contain herself. Running forward, she clasped both hands. "Mother! You look simply lovely!"

Mary laughed. Twirling as much for her daughter as for herself, she turned the dress in a pink rainbow. "Thank you dear. Just my old gown made over…" Mary smiled gesturing to her sewing basket. "…but it did turn out rather nicely."

Wendy reached. "You look like a princess, Mother." she said, lifted into her mother's arms. "A fairytale princess."

Mary smiled, sweeping across the room and balancing Wendy on her hip. Glimpsing their reflection in the vanity, she marveled at her daughter's slightness – so delicate and petite for a ten year old. And so very, very fragile.

"My little girl…my little Wendy." Mary settled at the vanity. Turning Wendy on her lap, she smoothed her daughter's hair. Wendy smiled, and Mary was struck at their resemblance. Her memories surged finding herself in her daughter's face.

"You want to see the Christmas party…don't you my darling?"

Wendy stared at her reflection. " It's not Christmas yet."

Mary nodded. "No. Tis not. But…today is December thirteenth. The first of twelve days of Christmas. Father and I have so many lovely friends…and Father is so very shy and so very hardworking…we thought a masquerade ball would be a lovely present to celebrate the year."

"Masquerade?"

"Yes…" Mary held up her wrist, from which a sparkling mask hung. "A party with dancing. And pretty masks. No one knows who anyone is…so…Prince Charming might be hiding behind one. Just like one of your fairytales."

Wendy grinned. Thinking the idea lovely, she held the mask over her eyes. It was the shape of a butterfly.

"I wish I could go. I've never been to a mascara – "

Mary bit her lip, hiding a smile.

" – a mascara ball." Wendy lowered the mask. "But Daddy said no."

Mary considered. Slowly, she smiled. Her eyes twinkled and the room glowed with secret excitement. "Wendy…" she whispered, voice tingling. "…let's play a trick on Daddy."

Wendy turned. "Trick?"

Mary tilted her head. Carefully, she removed a single diamond earring. "Take this…" she said, placing the earring in Wendy's hand. The diamonds twinkled like a cluster of stars. Wendy gazed in awe as Mary spoke. "…pretend that mommy left this earring in your room. Bring it down to me. And then…"

Mary folded Wendy's fingers around the diamond earring. "…then you can see the party."

Wendy gasped. For a wonderful, unbelievable moment every single part of her tingled brighter than the diamonds.

Then, her face fell. "But…look at me." Sadly, she looked away from the mirror. "I'm not dressed for it." she said, smoothing a wrinkle from her nightdress. "And my hair is messy."

"…Wendy..."

Wendy looked up. Curiously, she watched her mother rummage through her sewing basket.

Smiling radiantly, Mary withdrew a ribbon. Blue as the sky and bright as the Caribbean Sea. Gently, her fingers rippled through Wendy's hair.

"You are a beautiful young lady, Wendy my love." whispered Mary lacing the blue ribbon through her daughter's curls. She accented the knot with a thick, luscious bow. "But remember…we are our prettiest when we are ladies…not when we are cruel, or vain, or contemptuous."

Gently, Mary rose. Gliding into the hallway, she led Wendy to the top of the stairs. "We are most beautiful when we are brave, loyal, and kind." Lovingly, she kissed Wendy's forehead. "And…a little bit mischievous…from time to time."

Wendy grinned. Carefully, she touched the blue bow in her hair. The diamond earring sparkled between her fingers. Shew grinned at her mother. "Like now?"

Mary nodded. With the elegance of a swan, she backed down the stairs. "Yes indeed, my darling." Mary turned to the door. The golden light snatched every gorgeous curve.

Beaming, she turned to Wendy. "Count to ten…"

Wendy nodded. Curling on the top step, she waved as Mary Darling drifted through the magical door and into the Christmas ball.

"One…" she whispered, squeezing both eyes shut. With every breath, she eased down a step. "Two….three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…"

Wendy opened her eyes. Her fingertips rest against the knob.

She smiled.

"...ten."

Holding her head high and pretending to be her mother, Wendy Darling entered the golden door.


	3. Chapter 3: Nightmare Before Christmas

**Chapter 3: Nightmare Before Christmas**

A dream! It must all be a wonderful Christmas dream!

Wendy spun in circles, trying to see everything. Christmas candles with golden flames! Christmas cookies, cakes, pudding, and punch! Christmas ornaments swinging from crystal chandeliers! Christmas carols put to dance! Christmas presents wrapped every imaginable color with glittering ribbons and waterfall bows. Christmas evergreens scenting the winter air! Christmas ladies dressed in reds, cranberries, purples, and pinks. Christmas gentlemen decked in greens, emeralds, midnights, and blues.

Christmas here! Christmas there! Christmas, Christmas everywhere!

Bubbling with happiness Wendy wove through the crowd, looking for her mother.

At first, she was confident. Unhurried and unworried, she ambled happily, listening to snippets of conversation.

"—dear me Dr. Doppler! What a terribly droll mask! – "

"—much up-to-do with the business report this quarter, eh Mr. LaBouff? –"

"—Scrumps! Stephan! _Hiccup!_ Stephan! Come toast some Christmas punch! – "

"— Admiral! Oh Admiral Triton! Yuletide Sir! Yuletide! Surprised _as all_ to see you Sir! Haven't seen hide nor hair of you since…since poor, poor Athena – "

"—Eggnog, eh? Strong is it?—"

"—after all Ms. Deville tis the season to be jolly –"

"—ah, met our lovely host Mr. Darling have you Mr. McDuck? No? Works at your bank he does, and – oh there he is now! George! George!"

Wendy jumped. Ducking from her father, she took refuge behind the Christmas tree. Squeezing the diamond earring, she waited. As her father stumbled through small talk with Mr. McDuck, Wendy relaxed. Slowly she settled, spying for her mother amongst the glamorous couples.

"Well, well, well. A stole away?"

Wendy jumped. Two people, a man and woman, appeared behind the evergreen boughs.

Both wore masquerade masks. But they were not the jovial ones donned by other guests. The woman's, black and green, was a dragon snout. The man's mask was a pirate, full faced and painted with a sickening smile.

Wendy glanced. Her father was still conversing. Her mother was still nowhere in sight. Trapped, Wendy turned, remembering that she was supposed to always act like a lady.

"No Sir. Kind Sir." Wendy replied. She curtsied, one eye on her father. "My name is Wendy Darling. I live here, you see." She displayed the earring, as evidence. "I'm looking for my mother. She…um…she left her earring in my r…um…upstairs."

The dragon lady laughed. The pirate spoke. "What a good little girl you are, Wendy Darling." Slowly, the pirate rounded the tree. "Father Christmas will surly bring you a….surprise."

Wendy stepped back. The nettles prickled into her neck as the pirate advanced, one hand hiding in his pocket.

"I…I…um…"

"Why not be good girl, again?" The pirate whispered, poking his fake face at her. Behind the mask, two aquamarine eyes flashed red. "Tell me…"

Slowly, the pirate slid his arm from his breast pocket. "Were you born…on the Autumnal Equinox?" He pressed closer. One finger hooked under her chin. Something sharp glittered from his red pocket. "September twenty first?"

"Y…ye….y—" Wendy stumbled. Ornaments twinkled and fell as she slid over the boughs and landed with a _whump_.

"Oh dear! Oh heavens how cute! Ladies! Ladies! Come look see!"

Soft, glowing faces covered Wendy with gentle squeals. Wendy turned. The pirate and the dragon lady had slunk behind the Christmas tree and disappeared.

"Awwwwww!"

Bustles, lace, and petticoats ballooned around her. Flustered, Wendy froze as a flock of beautiful women purred, patted, and pinched.

"Oh, my! Look girls! Look! All rosy and pink in her nightie!"

"How. Cute. Were you sleep walking?"

"Precious little piglet!"

"It's been such a while– dearest, look how lovely and long your hair has grown!"

"What were you doing behind that tree? _Tsk! Tsk_! Sneaking peaks at presents were you?"

"Naughty! Naughty! Father Christmas has that list you know!"

"Little munchkin!"

"Bitsy birdie!"

"Wendy."

The ladies parted. Sternly but softly, Mary Darling strode through the gaggle. Two adults, both with chocolate-colored skin and caramel eyes, followed.

"Mary! Oh Mary!"

Forgetting the earring, Wendy buried her nose shyly into her mother. Soothingly, Mary lifted her daughter as the women crooned.

"Oh Mary! Is this your little piglet! Your little birdie! Your little munchkin!"

Regally as a swan, Mary regarded the ladies. Gently, she stroked Wendy's back. "No…this is my little lady."

"Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!"

"Well that's enough of that! Go on! Go on now you floozies! Let the child be!"

The ladies dismissed, rather huffily.

Mary bit back a smile "Eudora. Bless you. But those are my guests."

"And do we look like the hosts?" muttered Eudora, taking her husband's arm. She glared over her Champaign flute. "Bunch o' nitwits."

Mary laughed. Repositioning her arms around Wendy, she grinned. "Eudora, Eudora! How hard you jest! If Sarah were here…the two of you…together?"

Mary winked as Eudora's husband blew through his cheeks. "…I can only imagine!"

"Well…" Smugly, Eudora smiled. Spinning her glass, she suddenly frowned. "Speaking of Sarah – where is that girl? It's been forever since we've had girl's night!"

Mary paused. "Sarah is…with Sinbad." she finally said, voice dropping with worry. "They…needed…to talk."

"_Mmmmm-hm."_ Eudora pursed her lips. Secrets were clearly being kept. Distastefully, she glanced out the window. "Sinbad. _Hmph_. Wish they hadn't eloped. Why, if I had been there when that preacher said '_If any of you has reasons why these two should not be married_,' boyyyy let me tell you, I would have spoken my piece so loud it would have shaken the _bad_ right out of Sinba – "

"—Eudora!" Mary interrupted, glancing pointedly at her daughter. Shaking her head, she adjusted Wendy on her hip. "Wendy? Wendy, you remember Eudora and James? Tiana's mother and father?"

With a little coaxing, Wendy looked. Glancing once at her mother, she nodded shyly at the couple.

"How do you do?"

Eudora and James smiled. Exchanging a look that said '_She is SO her mother!_' they returned to the little girl.

"Pleasure as ever, young lady." James said, taking Wendy's hand. He kissed her fingers and smiled when Wendy giggled. "Expecting you at my house in a few days! December twenty first! Christmas cookie baking time!"

"Oh yes." Mary beamed. "Yes I did write that on the calendar. December twenty first – Sarah's brining Jim for his birthday. Wendy, you and Tiana will get to make a new friend. And cookies!"

"Sounds like fun to me!" Eudora said, popping out a hip. "So long as someone else does the dishes!"

They laughed. Warmed by the circle of friends, Wendy failed to notice her father.

"Wendy! Wendy Moria Angela Darling!"

Wendy looked up. "Uh oh."

"Uh-oh is certainly right, young lady!" Nodding apologetically to Eudora and James, George Darling stared crossly at his daughter. "Wendy. What did I say about leaving the nursery? Bedtime means bedtime! And it means bedtime until morning!"

"George…" Mary placed a hand on her husband. "Dear. Don't be cross. Wendy was only brining me something." Her eyes twinkled. "Weren't you, Wendy?"

Wendy blinked. Thinking she'd seen the pirate and dragon lady, she suddenly remembered the earring.

"Oh. Yes." Glancing once more over her father's shoulder, she lifted the earring. "Here it is."

"Thank you, my darling. George, could you fasten…oh listen!" Mary tilted her head. She smiled a music picked up pace.

"George! George this song! Oh George I love this song!" Taking her husband's hand, Mary carried Wendy onto the dance floor. "Please. One dance."

George straightened his glasses. "Oh, well, Mary, I hardly think in front of Mr. McDuck—"

"Just one!" Mary laughed. "George! It's almost Christmas!"

"Go!" Eudora urged. Smiling, she snuggled besides James. Lovingly, they watched the Darlings hold hands around their daughter. Eudora shook her head. "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree. Mary Darling, you are full of so many surprises girl!"

The Darlings danced. Bopping up and down, Wendy wrapped both arms around her parents. _At last! It was starting to feel like Christmas!_

With a jazzy trumpet blast, the song ended. Bashful in the audience's praise, Mr. Darling stooped his way off the dance floor. Cheeks pink, he blew his wife a kiss.

The kiss was caught. Laughing, Mary twirled with Wendy in her arms, pausing only to sprinkle butterfly kisses with pale eyelashes. James and Eudora joined them, waltzing to a Christmas carol.

Wendy hugged her mother. Mary hugged Wendy.

Then, Mary saw the hook.

"_May I cut in_!"

"Wendy!"

It happened fast. Cruelly and unfairly fast.

Wendy heard her mother scream. For a second, she felt her mother's embrace as if to press her into her heart. Then, she fell. Pushed away, she reached but slipped from her mother.

The chandelier smashed. The candles hissed black. Mouths screamed. Faces streaked.

"Oh dead! Oh dead!"

"Men! To me – after them!"

"Come on mates – follow Admiral Triton!"

"Dead! Oh it's James! He killed James! Trying to protect her!"

"Protect who? Who is it? Who is it?"

"Look! Oh god! She's dead! DEAD!"  
>"Who? WHO?"<br>Wendy turned. Time slowed as starlight shimmered over Mary Darling like a veil.

"…mother? Mother?"

"Wendy!" Two hands hugged her. Two more covered her eyes. "Wendy! Honey don't look. Honey come this – "

Wendy hit the hands. Ripping away, she ran to her mother.

"Mother! Mother!"

The starlight swelled. Mary Darling stared at her daughter with hollow, bottomless eyes. Green sparkles crackled over her perfect, slender body, sizzling over the hook embedded in her chest.

Wendy screamed. "MOTHER! MOTHER!" She held her mother's hand. She touched her mother's hair. "MOTHER! PLEASE! MOTHER – "

"Someone get the girl!"

"Wendy! Wendy come! Come on now – "

"NO!" Wendy fought as Dr. Doppler carried her away.

Screaming, she reached through the starlight as Mary Darling's soul lifted into heaven.

"MOTHER!"


	4. Chapter 4: December 21st

**Chapter 4: December 21****st**

"Wendy…it's your turn to say goodbye."

Snow twinkled deftly. Snowflakes glowed on the grave like fairies in the night.

Wendy stared. The black grave. John's black top hat. Michael's black cardigan. Her father's black glove, heavy on her black frock.

Black casket

Black grave.

Black letters.

**MARY DARLING : LOVING WIFE. LOVING MOTHER.**

Then, Wendy thought of the ribbon. Still a bright blue bow in her hair.

And she ran.

"Wendy!" George Darling turned. Alarmed, he took three steps, balancing baby Michael as his daughter pushed blindly though the assemblage of black overcoats, black veils, and black umbrellas. "Wendy! Wendy…"

Slowly, George stopped. Crookedly he stood, bent with torture and inflamed with grief. Feet dragging he stayed, unable to leave the only woman he had ever loved.

But Wendy ran. Snowflakes swirled into her eyes but could not begin to rival the blizzard inside. A blizzard disorienting every thought and numbing every emotion. A blizzard so overwhelming every time Wendy wanted to cry, she could not.

"COME BACK!"

Wendy stopped. She fell, skidding onto her knees. Exhausted, she stared through the snow. She'd run so far, the farthest from home she'd ever been. She was on a cliff, miles into the sky, leaning over the East Fantasian Sea. Below, laced with snow and torrid with waves, the ocean curled against the cliff like a monster.

Wendy inhaled. "COME BACK!" she yelled, voice breaking, "COME BACK! COME BACK! COME BACK! COME….come…co…"

The waves crashed as Wendy stopped. The pain was everywhere. It was both unbounded and unbearable, like drowning in the ocean. So omnipresent was the pain, Wendy's mind seized and shutdown. Ribbon fluttering over her head, she stared numbly at the grey water.

Then, she heard someone crying.

She turned. A boy.

The boy stared back through the snow. Several feet away he sat, arms curled around his knees, and knees curled over bare feet. Wind shook through his baggy pajamas, ripped across his ratty brown hair, and flicked tears from his cheeks, one by one.

Wendy stood. "Stop!"

The boy blinked. Snowflakes melted on his tears.

Wendy ran. "Stop! Stop crying!" Anger cracked the numbness inside her. She sprinted, seized the boy's pajama collar, pulled back a fist—

_Wack_.

"STOP!" Wendy's knuckles were warm. Her arm tingled to the elbow. Kneeling over the boy, she hit him without restraint. Never once did she worry that he was bigger than she. Never once did she think that her hand would bruise. Never once did she consider that her mother would have been ashamed….had she not…died.

"You have no right!" Wendy released the boy's collar. Although he was freed, the boy did not run. He did not fight back. She hit him with both hands. "You have no right! You have no right to cry!"

Still the boy did not fight back. He just lay there, nose in the dirt, crying as if Wendy were not there at all.

Uncontrollably, Wendy screamed. "My mother is dead!" With every word, she hit the boy as hard as she could. "My mother is DEAD! My mother is dead and she is NEVER –

_Wack_.

"- COMING -"

_Wack_.

- BACK!"

Wendy hit the earth. She gasped, trying to breath. Trying to think. Trying to take back what she had just said.

"She's…she's dead." Wendy choked. The truth hit her like a spear through the heart. "My mother…is dead! My mother is dead and never coming back."

Wendy shook her head. She felt dazed, trapped in a nightmare. Shaking uncontrollably, she stood. For two steps she staggered, weighted by a broken heart.

"My father is alive."

Wendy turned. The boy's lip was bruised. His nose was bleeding. But his teal-grey eyes sliced through the snow with a disarming intensity.

For a moment they stared at each other, separated only by drifting snow.

Then the boy spoke.

"My father is alive…and he is never coming back."


	5. Chapter 5: You Better Watch Out

**Chapter 5: You Better Watch Out**

"_Happy Christmas Rapunzel! Happy Christmas Ms. Gothel! Oh Happy Christmas little Tritons! Happy Christmas Admiral! Happy Christmas Naveen! Happy Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Maldonia! All righty children – play nicely on the playground until your parents arrive! Almost time for Christmas vacation_!"

Cobra Bubbles touched his earpiece. He murmured into his wrist microphone. "Stiletto. Come in Stiletto. Over."

"_Hello_!" Mistress Minnie's sang over the connection. Mr. Bubbles flinched. Someday - her falsetto was going to blow the system. "_This is Stiletto to Juicy Fruit. Over_."

A vein twitched in Mr. Bubble's temple.

Juicy Fruit. Bubble gum. Cobra Bubbles. Hilarious.

"Your microphone's picking up everything, Stiletto." Mr. Bubbles leaned back. He scanned the playground. "Could you bring down the volume? Hard enough to hear you without the background noise."

The earpiece crackled. Mistress Minnie was laughing. "_Mr. Bubbles_ – "

"—it's Juicy Fruit. Stick with the espionage speech."

Mistress Minnie laughed again. "_All righty,_ _Juicy Fruit_." she replied, clearly occupied with students. "_I'm sorry for the background noise. But they can't help it – they're children! And it's almost Christmas! Children have to laugh, and run, and play _– "

"—I didn't."

"- _I can imagine_."

"Just lower the volume, Stiletto." Mr. Bubbles said. His lip curled, distastefully. "Please. Working two jobs here. Need both ears."

The earpiece buzzed. The effervescence in Mistress Minnie's voice flattened. "_How is she_?"

Mr. Bubbles glanced. His head didn't move, but the mirrors behind his sunglasses revolved, focusing on the little girl sitting beside him.

"Bluebird's still not singing." he curtly replied. "Commencing operation Nice Guy."

Minnie tsked. "_Mr. Bubbles! You are a guidance counselor!"_ she scolded. "_A social worker! A school psychologist! So try to remember that she is not a target suspect! She is a little girl in need of a friend!"_

Mr. Bubbles raised an eyebrow. "Over and out." he said, killing the channel.

_Mice _he thought. _Overemotional._

Discretely twisting the earbud, Mr. Bubbles turned to the little girl.

And he commenced operation Nice Guy.

Mr. Bubbles tilted his head, scanning the girl. Encrypted script scrolled across the inner lens of his sunglasses. He read silently.

_Subject: Wendy M. A. Darling._

_Species: Homo sapien_

_Gender: Female_

_Age: 10 years, 3 months. Minor._

_Residency: Towne (Division), Center-Point (Sector), Fantasia (Country), Gaia (Planet)._

_Occupation: Elementary Student, Fantasia School for the Magical Skewed._

_Weapon Status: Unarmed._

_Objective: Apprehend suspect and interrogate for psychological distress and emotional suppression 9 days post death mother, Mary G. Darling. Activate grieving process._

"Subject apprehended. Identification verified." Mr. Bubbles muttered, tapping the frames. A recorder blinked as Wendy turned. "Commence interrogation."

Mr. Bubbles turned. Crossing his legs and folding his hands, he regarded Wendy in the kindest, fluffiest way he knew how.

"Talk. Today's the day. Let's go."

Wendy stared. Feet dangling, she traced indiscriminate lines in the snow. "Talk about what?"

Mr. Bubbles squeezed his hands. His knuckles cracked. _Children: so frustrating._

"Your feelings." Mr. Bubbles said. He studied Wendy through the black lenses. "Been a couple sessions with you, and me, and the silence. So let's invite Mrs. Talk and Mr. Emotion to the party."

Wendy's paused. A dab of snow spotted her slipper. "You don't sound like a guidance counselor."

"It's a day job." Mr. Bubbles replied without skipping a beat. "Cover. Headmaster's orders. Over your head. But don't change the subject – let's talk about you. Ten years old – three months. Lots of children running around. Almost Christmas. Big playground." Fluidly, Mr. Bubbles pointed. He nodded at Wendy's classmates. They were running around in crazy reindeer games, waiting for their parents. "Why not join? Looks like fun."

Wendy bit her lip. Suddenly, her eyes snapped, following a boy pumping on the swings. The boy grinned. She looked away. Silently, she stared into the snow.

Mr. Bubbles considered. Then, straightening his leather gloves, he sighed.

"Wendy…it's unhealthy to keep it all in. It's okay to cry."

Wendy did not answer.

Mr. Bubbles gazed. Then, realizing it was time to bite the bullet, he rose.

"I'll wait until your father comes." he said, walking away. "Happy Christmas Wendy."

Wendy stared at her snow tracings. Messy. Random. Chaotic. "Happy Christmas." she whispered, looking into the sky.

"Hey! Girl!"

Two green sneakers and a fiery red head flashed across her vision. Wendy blinked, watching the boy on the swing. The boy smiled a half crooked smile. Transfixed, Wendy watched the boy climb. Pumping his legs and throwing back his head, he swung higher…and higher…and higher…and higher…

…and then, crowing like a rooster, he jumped!

Wendy gasped. For a second, _one split second,_ as she watched the boy fly through the winter air, she forgot.

"GOTCHA!"

Wendy turned. _BAM!_ Without warning, someone tackled her full throttle. Wendy slammed onto her back, snow splattering into her eyes. She tried to roll. But the attacker seized both wrists and sat on her chest.

"Oh!" Wendy gasped, breath punched from her lungs. Shaking away snow, she looked desperately at the person on top of her.

"You?!"

It was the boy. The boy from the cliff. The boy she'd caught crying. They boy that she'd…

"Hey!" Someone was yelling. "Hey! Let her go you codfish!"

The boy turned. The snow reflected against a black eye and purple cheek. Growling in frustration, he returned to Wendy. Suddenly, he released one wrist

Wendy twisted to the side and grabbed with her free hand. The boy reacted quickly, squeezing his knees against her ribcage and preventing escape. Certain his motives were vengeful and terrified of what the boy would do to her, Wendy kicked and pulled until the boy clamped his elbow over her collar bone. Then, from his pocket, he whipped out a wrench.

Wendy's eyes widened. She struggled, but the boy was stronger. Without pausing, he spit on the wrench head, rubbed with his thumb, and smeared machine grease across Wendy's face.

"Eeeeeee-uuuuewww!"

Wendy squirmed. It was disgusting. Oh it was like black worm guts! Wendy closed her eyes. She held her breath and tried not to smell. She understood the irony – he was returning the black eye – but Wendy felt that she'd rather have the bruises.

"Hey! Hey! Let her go!"

The boy took Wendy's head. He gave a hard shake.

Wendy's eyes popped open. Although one was sticky with grease, she stared at the boy.

"Meet me at Pirate's Point." he said, dropping the wrench, and sprinting out of site.

Wendy lay, stunned. Then, someone slid on the snow behind her, panting. "Hey! Hey!" Two hands pulled her up. Wendy saw a flame of messy red hair and pointed ears before her savior attempted to wipe the grease with his sleeve. "You okay?"

The red-haired boy from the swing. Grinning at Wendy, he cleaned his sleeve on his jeans. "He got you pretty good. Lucky I was here, huh?"

Wendy blushed. The boy's eyes were mesmerizingly black. Suddenly, she was very, very shy.

Mr. Bubbles was bulldozing towards them. The red-haired boy was still grinning at her. His fingers were warm even through Wendy's mittens. "Hey. Girl. Are you okay?"

Wendy stared. Then, she looked over her shoulder.

The boy's footprints left a trail in the snow.

She looked at the red-haired boy. "…no." Then, pulling away, she ran after the footprints.

Because she was not okay. And no one understood.

No one…except…perhaps…

…the boy waiting for her at Pirate's Point.


	6. Chapter 6: In the Bleak Midwinter

**Chapter 6: In the Bleak Midwinter **

The boy was waiting. Facing the wind, he stood at the cliff where they'd first met.

"Pirate's Point." Wendy breathed.

She wiped her brow. Even in the cold, she was warm from running across Center-Point. She looked around. There was nothing but ocean. She must be in the Eastern Sector. Home of the wealthy and…unwealthy.

Carefully, Wendy stepped over the last footprint. She waited for the boy to turn.

He did not.

"I…I…" Wendy swallowed. Every instinct told her to reprimand the boy, scold him for attacking her. But, a deeper part of her craved to know if he understood.

"What did you mean?" she asked, hair ripping in the wind. The blue ribbon darted over her eyes. "What did you mean that your father is alive and never coming back?"

The boy stiffened. A tremor jerked through his shoulders.

Then, he turned.

Wendy stepped back, seeing the boy for the first time.

At first, in their brief meetings, she'd thought him a wild boy with sharp features. And that he was – his bangs were scruffed to either side and jagged as the wisp of hair hanging down his neck like a rat tail. His jaw, sharp enough to cut stone, was locked in a grimace as he glared at Wendy below thick eyebrows.

A gust swept between them. The boy's hair flew from his face. Wendy blinked. Stepping forward, she looked closer. Nearer. Deeper.

And she _saw_ him.

The boy stood taller than she, but not oppressively. His shoulders were slightly bent, as if he were curving inward to protect his heart. Wendy looked up. He had a curved nose. Tiny, like a button. Smile lines were fading from two teal eyes. Wendy looked closer. A shadow was crossed over his face like a mask, but his eyes were clear. So clear, in fact, the boy was vulnerable to the person that only paused to notice.

And Wendy did notice. She saw that this wild boy, was scared, lonely, and hopeless as she.

And that was the only reason that Wendy followed the boy down the cliff, across shipyards, into The Docks, and to the doorstep of _The Benbow Inn_.


	7. Chapter 7: What Child Is This?

**Chapter 7: What Child Is This?**

_SMASH!_

_CRASH!_

_PUNCH!_

"Get him sonnnn! Dock and sock him sonny boy!"

Wendy ducked. A chair splintered over her head. A man followed. Shaking his head and cracking his neck, the man charged back into the fight. Punches were exchanged. Noses were broken. The onlookers cheered. Then the men passed a round of beers and hooted at the sports channel.

A bar. _The Benbow Inn_ was a bar.

"I said OUT!"

Wendy jumped. A woman was marching through the crowd. She dragged a man three times her size by the ear. Wendy scuttled from the doorway as the woman approached.

"Out of my inn! OUT! I have been sleep-deprived, robbed, and cheated all in the past three days. DO NOT PUSH ME! So when I say HANDS OFF – " the woman flung open the door and threw the man out. "— I mean HANDS OFF!"

Someone grabbed her wrist as the door slammed.

"Come on." The boy said, appearing at her side. Bowing his head, he pulled Wendy through the bar. Quickly he maneuvered, elbowing past the drunks.

"Ignore them." he said, leading Wendy behind the counter. "Head down."

Wendy obeyed. Silently, she followed the boy up narrow stairs. They passed two doors before stopping at the top.

"In." said the boy, opening the door.

Wendy paused, apprehensive. Rolling his eyes, the boy pulled her inside.

It was a small room, cut in half by a slanted ceiling, and very dark. Nautical charts lined the walls and star charts plastered the ceiling. Watery light bled over a mattress without a frame, and a heap of model planes and spaceships littered the floor. Wendy knelt. The models were broken. Smashed.

"This is…your room?" she asked, turning a broken wing over her hands. Her heart was pattering. She knew it was dangerous to enter a stranger's house and spoke just to keep calm. "Do you live here? Is this your home? Do your parents work here? Are you – "

The boy knelt. Taking the broken model, he stood and snapped the wing in half.

Wendy flinched. Remembering the attack, she took a small step back.

The boy dropped the broken wing on the bed. "Gotta name?"

Wendy stiffened. "Yes." she said, a little tartly. "I do."

The boy remained stoic. "What is it?"

Wendy gripped her skirt, trying to be brave. "What's yours?"

The boy stepped forward. "I asked first."

"You pushed me in the snow."

"You punched me in the eye."

"You were crying!"

"Yeah?" the boy stepped right into her. Wendy bit her lip. Though they were similar ages, he was easily a head taller.

Angrily, he spoke. "Well you _weren't_."

Wendy cringed. Guilt clenched inside her as she looked away from the boy.

"Wendy." she answered. "Wendy Moria Angela Darling."

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Long."

Wendy bristled. "No." she informed him. "It's the perfect length."

He glared. Glaring back, she crossed her arms. "What is your name?"

"Jim."

Wendy waited. "Jim…?" she prompted. "Jim what else?"

"That's it."

It was Wendy's turn to raise a brow. "That can't be it. You have to have a proper name."

The boy frowned. He rounded her like a predator. "It's Jim!"

Turning with him Wendy stood on her tiptoes, not to be subdued. "Gentlemen have proper names!"

"I told you ITS JIM!"

"James Pleiades Hawkins!"

Wendy enjoyed a fleeting triumphant moment before a woman opened the door. As Jim side stepped in front of her, Wendy recognized the woman that had thrown out the customer downstairs. Without the bar-room chaos, she suddenly noticed the resemblance between the woman and Jim.

_It's his mother_ Wendy realized as the woman entered.

"James Pleiades Hawkins!" Mrs. Hawkins scolded, pointing a finger. "What in the world is going on up here? Honey you know that too much movement disrupts the television frequen…oh."

Mrs. Hawkins stopped short. Leaning around Jim, she stared at the little girl cowering behind him.

"Jim. Who is this?"

Jim glanced back. "Wen." he said.

Wendy fumed. "It's Wendy." she corrected. She stood beside Jim, just to make sure he heard. "Wendy Moria Ang – "

"—It's Wen." Jim glared. "Her name is Wen."

` "Jim." Mrs. Hawkins frowned disprovingly at her son. After casting a weary glance down the stairs, she turned to Wendy.

"Wendy what?"

"Wendy Mor – "

"—Just the last name, Honey." Mrs. Hawkins said, kindly but very much in the fashion of her son. Again she glanced down the stairs. Customers were roaring. Crowds were bickering. Orders were waiting. "Wendy what?"

Demurely, Wendy lowered her head. "Darling."

Mrs. Hawkins stopped. Slowly she shut the door. "Wendy _Darling_? You're…Mary's…?"

"— Mom."

Jim took Wendy's hand. Warningly he shook his head at his mother.

Unnoticed, Mrs. Hawkins stared at Wendy as if she'd seen a ghost. "I'm sorry…sorry, Honey. I…I heard…Mary…Mary was…"

Mrs. Hawkins stopped, suddenly aware of Wendy's downcast eyes and Jim's death glare. Sympathetically she rubbed her chest. "…have you two eaten? I think there's some –"

"No." Squeezing Wendy's hand, Jim pushed past his mother. "We're going out back. Come on Wen."


	8. Chapter 8: Santa's Workshop

**Chapter 8: Santa's Workshop**

Wendy shivered. The winter sky was saturated with sea salt. It made it colder. Fingers shaking, she followed Jim.

He led her to a homemade garage. As they entered, motion sensors flickered to life. Wendy immediately smelled sawdust and machine grease, evidence to the tools and spare parts lining the work benches.

What she didn't expect were the books. Stacks and shelves of them: manuals, hardcovers, paperbacks, do-it-yourselfs, printouts, pdfs. Wendy squinted, skimming the titles. _The Art of Design. Electrical Engineering. Quantum Mechanics. Calculus. The Photoelectric Effect and Applications. The Beautiful Profound Universe. Solar Energy._

"Goodness." She opened a bookmarked text. Notes were written in the margins. "Did you read all these?"

"Not yet. Okay, come here."

Wendy turned. Her jaw dropped. "What is _that_?"

Jim had uncovered a machine. He did not smile, but caressed the machine lovingly.

"Solar surfer."

"What's it for?" Inspecting the craft, she took a guess. "Does it use sun power to sail?"

Jim looked mildly impressed. Still, shaking his head, he crouched. Wendy followed as he pointed to sail-like extensions. "Solar surfers use energy from the sun to fly."

"Fly?"

Jim nodded. "See these sails? Most important part of the solar surfer. See the how the sail looks like a bunch of diamond tiles glued together with grout? Grout, you know grout - the filling between floor tiles?"

Wendy nodded.

"Well," Jim continued, "the diamonds are ultrathin mirrors. Very light. Very durable. Very temperature resistant. The filling in-between the diamonds are made of tiny solar cells."

Jim pointed to the diamond ultrathin mirrors. "Now. The mirrors are exactly like the ship sails on the ocean. Ship sails get pushed by wind, right? Well, these mirrors get pushed by sunlight, by _reflecting_ sunlight. Sunlight is made of billions and billions of tiny dots called photons."

"Photons?"

"Yeah. The photons hit the mirrors and get reflected. It's kinda like they bounce off. And when something bounces off you – "

Turning, Jim thumped Wendy with the heel of his hand.

" – it propels you in space." he finished as Wendy swayed.

Wendy straightened herself. "What about the filling in-between? The grout?"

Jim nodded. "Solar cells." he corrected. "They convert sun energy to electricity. It's a process called the…photoener…photoelement…shit!"

Wendy jumped, surprised and appalled at his language. Unnoticed, Jim shook his head, frustrated. "Damn it…I can't remember. Photo-something effect."

The word sequence triggered something in the back of Wendy's head. Searching through the books, she pointed at a thick spine. _The Photoelectric Effect and Applications. _"Photoelectric effect?"

Jim looked at her. "Yeah." he said in an odd tone. "Yeah. Photoelectric effect." He turned, rummaging through the tools. "Good catch."

Wendy smiled, a little pleased. "Thanks."

"The point is…" Jim said, fitting a screw driver under the tack, "…is that the sails trap and store electricity to power the engine for lift off. And for quick bursts of speed. All other directional movement – left, right, up, down – is controlled by the mirrors. So, all you need to ride is a pivot point for the sails that connects to the board – these right here – and good balance to stay on."

He glanced through his bangs. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Wendy was enthralled. "Dreadfully cool. Who made it?"

Jim twisted the screwdriver. "Me."

"You?"

"Yup."

"But…" flabbergasted, Wendy gestured wide. "…but this is incredible!"

Jim allowed himself a small, smug smile. "Made my first solar surfer when I was eight."

Wendy was impressed. Forgetting the cold, she stared at the solar surfer. She was about to ask Jim why he was still fixing it, but as she turned he answered by dumping a blow torch in her hand.

"The engine needs to be welded to the base." Jim said, donning gloves and goggles. "I need two people. I was supposed to do it with…before he…"

The cloud darkened over Jim's eyes. Accusingly, he glared at Wendy as if she had tried to read his thoughts. Clearing his throat, Jim handed her a pair of goggles.

"You any good?"

Wendy hefted the blow torch. It was almost her size. "With what?"

Jim nodded. "That."

"What do I do?"

"Hold it." Jim said. "Need a steady hand. A very steady hand. You look like you got two."

Wendy realized that in his dark tone, Jim had complimented her. "…I use to sew." she offered, taking the goggles. "Stitch. Very small. Nearly invisible."

Jim was satisfied. "Good."

Lowering his goggles and indicating that Wendy should do the same, he knelt by the engine. Positioning it he looked up. "Red switch to turn on. Point the flame right here. Then hold. Got it?"

Wendy nodded. She readied the torch. "I think so."

"No thinks. Yes or no."

Wendy bit her lip. She flipped the red switch. "Got it."

The blowtorch nearly blew Wendy away. The hefting nearly broke her arm. The screwing nearly twisted her wrist off. But as Wendy and Jim worked side by side, hammering their souls into the solar surfer, they both forgot why they were supposed to be sad.


	9. Chapter 9: Naughty List

**Chapter 9: Naughty List **

Wendy sat. Exhausted, she smiled with fierce pride at the solar surfer.

She felt wonderful! According to Jim, it was almost done! And she helped!

With a happy sigh, she rolled down her stockings. After dusting out the sawdust, she began to rub oil from her dress.

Jim watched. "Nope."

Wendy looked up. "Sorry?"

Jim shook his head. "If you're going to keep working with me, you can't keep dressing like that."

Wendy cocked her head. "Like what?"

"Like a girl." Shifting, he sat beside Wendy. He pointed to a toothy looking machine. "See that machine? It rips links and stuff. If your dress or hair gets caught in it…."

Jim swiped his hand across his neck. "_Schwick_!"

Wendy grabbed her head, horrified. "Oh! Oh dear. That's awful. What do I do?"

Jim considered. He plucked the side of his pants. "Got any jeans?"

Wendy shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

"Shit. Figured. Well…do you have to dress so damn…I dunno..._nice_?"

Wendy's eyes flared. "_Must_ you swear?" she retorted.

Jim paused. Wendy turned, but he ducked before she could see his expression. They sat in silence as Jim massaged a wrench against his jaw.

Wendy looked nervously at the toothy machine. "What…about my hair?" she whispered, wringing the curly ends. Her hair was long. Nearly to her waist.

Jim lowered the wrench. He looked at Wendy's hair. Then, his eyes drifted to a pair of sheers.

Wendy's heart stopped. Horrified, she looked at Jim.

"Or we could braid it." he said.

Wendy gulped. "I don't know how."

"Me neither."

Wendy exhaled. She looked at the sheers. "…the bow stays?"

Jim almost smiled. He reached for the sheers. "Bow stays."

* * *

><p><em>Schwick!<em>

"You cut my hair. You cut my hair."

Jim tilted his head. "Yeah. Looks cute. Lot better." He waved a hand across the curled ends. They bounced lightly, just over Wendy's shoulders. "Don't worry. Later, I'll let you pierce my ear."

"Oh dear."

Jim tossed the sheers. He wiped his hands. "Okay…you ready?"

Still horrified, Wendy stared at the hair heaped at her feet. "Ready? Ready for what?"

Jim lifted the solar surfer. The sails sagged, heavy without sunlight. "The surfer…ready to try it out?"

Wendy looked up. "You think it will fly?" she asked in a blend of doubt and excitement.

Jim looked outside. "If we hurry. The sails will catch the sun."


	10. C10: Dash away, dash away, dash away all

**Chapter 10: Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!**

"Careful. Step on…that's it. Okay, Wen. Hold onto me."

Wendy wobbled. The solar surfer hummed beneath her feet. Tentatively touched Jim's waist.

"Jim…" she said, shivering as wind banged against the sails. Jim had positioned the solar surfer at the edge of Pirate's Point. The tip of the board hung over the sea. Wendy looked down. Below, far, far, far below, waves tore the shore apart.

"Jim…" Wendy said as he lifted the sails. The sails buzzed, absorbing light from the setting sun. "Jim are you sure –?"

"Hey." Jim turned. The board vibrated violently beneath them. His eyes were wild with determination. "I promise. Everything is going to be okay. I promise. Trust me?"

Wendy looked once more at the ocean drop. Then, she hugged Jim's waist. "Yes. I trust you."

Jim nodded. He turned, facing the setting sun. "I trust you too, Wen. Ready?"

Wendy clenched her hands together. Her hair waved light and free in the wind. "Where are we going?"

Jim kicked the engine lever. The sails sparked and sputtered, trying to juice energy from the fading sun.

Jim glared into the sunset.

"We're going to find that son of a bitch."

BANG!

The solar surfer jerked forward and spit off the cliff. Heart left behind, Wendy clung to Jim for dear life. Here senses screamed, trying to maintain balance. But Jim's balance was exquisite, honed from years of practice and faulty test runs.

"Yes!" Jim screamed, pulling the sails and veering across the sky. "Wen! Open your eyes! Wen! Look!"

Wendy opened her eyes. She gasped. Snowflakes and sea spray, twinkling gold in the sunlight, sprinkled around them like ocean waves. Shifting her weight, Wendy stood on her own, relying only on Jim's jacket for support.

And together, they soared over the ocean and into the sun.

Until… the sun set.

_KRUUUUNJJJJJJJJJJJKfizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz._

Jim eye's widened. "Shit."

"Jim?" Wendy slammed against Jim. The sails wilted and the board spun. "Jim? Jim? What's going on?"

Jim looked back. Throwing an arm around Wendy, he seized the boom.

"Recharge." he answered, holding her close.

Wendy would later learn that a solar surfer has accessory batteries, specifically designed to store energy from the solar cells to be used in nighttime flying. She would also learn that a solar surfer required a day of flying to store the necessary amount of energy.

But that information was of the lowest priority as they spiraled into the sea.


	11. Chapter 11: Christmas Eve

**Chapter 11: Christmas Eve**

"You two are in _so_ much trouble!"

Mrs. Hawkins plowed through the bar. Stringy Christmas lights, detached in a drunken fight, flickered as she pulled Wendy and Jim inside. The children followed, disheveled, but safe. They had been dried, warmed, and interrogated by Admiral Triton's coast guard, then promptly returned to The Benbow.

"Nearly half drowned and frozen in the ocean!" Mrs. Hawkins fumed. She stopped at the counter. "In come the police and I have to close shop on one of the busiest days of the year to find that my son has been arrested for – "

"Mom it was no big deal!" Angrily, Jim gestured to Wendy. "We didn't do anything wrong! I didn't even get to save my surfer! Those dumb cops just arrested us because they were already looking for some murderer that left on a ship –"

"Jim!" Mrs. Hawkins raked a hand through her hair. "You almost killed yourself and Wendy! If you got hurt – that would kill me! Jim, I told you _not_ to take out that solar surfer until your father – "

"— MY surfer worked!" Jim yelled. Wendy jumped. Jim's guard exploded like a gun shot. "Wen and I got it to work! I just forgot one thing but I DIDN'T NEED HIM!"

"—Jim! Do not raise your voice at me! I do not want you messing around in that garage aga—"

"—WE WEREN'T DOING ANYTHING WRONG!"

"James Pleadis Hawkins!" Mrs. Hawkins pointed at the stairwell. "Go to your room NOW!"

"NO!" Jim turned. Throwing aside chairs, he ran out of the inn. They heard the garage door slam, even from inside.

Flustered, Wendy turned.

Mrs. Hawkins rounded on her in a second. "Oh no you don't! You sit young lady! Your father is coming any minute to pi—"

Mrs. Hawkins stopped as Wendy immediately sat.

Taken aback, Mrs. Hawkins blinked. Casting a glance out the window, she lingered on the garage. Holding back tears, she turned quickly to the counter. For a moment, her shoulders gave. A tear fell. But, biting her tongue, Mrs. Hawkins rubbed away the tear. Slowly, she began to polish the counter. Work. It was the only way to forget.

Suddenly, she stopped. Startled, she looked down.

Wendy Darling, Mary Darling's little girl, was beside her. Silently, Wendy took a cloth and rubbed the counter.

Mrs. Hawkins smiled. Together they worked...just to be close to someone else.

They worked until Mr. Darling came for Wendy. And when Wendy left the Benbow, scolded and reprimanded -  
>"<em>WHAT have you done to your hair<em>?!" - she cast back a final glance.

Jim was sitting on the garage roof. Watching her leave.

That night Wendy could not sleep. It was not because her father and yelled, slammed a glass bottle on the table, and cried until she went to bed. It was not because Father Christmas was riding his magical sleigh across the midnight sky. It was not because she was thinking of the solar surfer, either as it soared in the sky or plunged into the ocean.

It was because she still did not know why Jim Hawkins understood her pain.

So, quietly, she crept into the magical Christmas Eve.

The Docks, so dirty by day, twinkled with frost by night. The ocean rocked calmly and the wind braided through her ringlets.

Gazing into the ocean, Wendy sighed.

Then, she saw it. The perfect Christmas present for Jim Hawkins.

"Oh…oh, oh, oh! Yes!"


	12. Chapter 12: Christmas Day

**Chapter 12: Christmas Day**

The snow fell thickly. But the sun was shining. It glinted so brightly, Wendy almost doubted that Jim was there when she trudged to Pirate's Point. But there he was. Somehow, she knew he would be.

She dropped her Christmas present in the snow.

Jim jumped. "Wen? How'd you know I was h – " His eyes traveled between Wendy and her Christmas gift. "Is… that?"

Wendy smiled. Kneeling, she held up the solar sail. "Happy Christmas."

Jim stared. Snow flecked onto his nose as Wendy smoothed the sail.

"I saw it. It must have washed ashore last night. You said it was the most important part." Anxiously, she searched Jim's face. It was expressionless. "I…I hope that it isn't too rumpled…"

"—it's ruined. Totally ruined."

Wendy's face fell. "Oh." she said, lowering the sail against her chest. She felt so silly for being so proud to have wrestled the enormous sail from the ocean, to her house, and up the cliff. Cheeks red, she mumbled into her boots. "Oh. Well…I—"

Jim stood. He walked to Wendy. And he hugged her with all his might.

"Thank you." he whispered, squeezing her newly chopped hair. "Thank you."

Wendy grinned. Sail squished between them, she hugged Jim back. "But it's ruined."

Jim released. Without any discomfiture at all, he lead Wendy to the edge of the cliff. "No sweat. We'll build another one."

"We will?"

"We will. Here." Jim bent. Turning, he threw something at Wendy wrapped in red ribbon. "For the workshop."

Wendy looked down. Tied in the red ribbon was a pair of jeans. "Oh!" Excited, she unknotted the ribbon and flapped open the jeans. "Oh they're lovely! And…long. Are these yours?"

Jim shook his head. "Not anymore."

Wendy beamed. "Thank you. I love them."

Jim shrugged. Sitting, he motioned for Wendy to join. "Don't get overemotional. They're just jeans."

Wendy smiled. Trying to contain her happiness, he settled beside Jim. "It was still a lovely thought."

"Yeah." Jim stared into the ocean. Together they sighed.

It was an easy silence. A silence balanced by absolute comfort with the person sharing it, and preoccupation with one's own thoughts. It was a silence glossed over by salty wind, angry waves, and swirling snow. It was a silence that Jim and Wendy would share forever, both introspectively and together.

But silence can be dangerous. Mourners and broken hearts should never be left in their own heads. The unhappy mind can be lethal; it is so easy to be consumed by the memories hiding in the dark.

Wendy closed her eyes.

"Jim?" she whispered. "Why were you crying?"

Jim's face was set as stone. But as he spoke, Wendy heard the wounds reopen.

"My dad left." Clouds muscled over the sun as Jim spoke. "He just…left. Walked out the door. Got on his ship. Sailed away. Didn't…didn't even…didn't even look back when I…"

Fist clenched, Jim turned away. "…son of a bitch. On my…birthday. He didn't even look back."

Wendy stared. And as Jim shook, trying to hide tears, she understood. She understood the armor Jim wore to protect himself from the world. She understood why slaving through grit and grease to create something beautiful as the solar surfer was vital as the air he breathed.

And she understood, despite her every instinct to comfort him, Jim needed to be alone. Touching his shoulder, she silently rose.

"I get it." Jim suddenly said. He turned, stopping Wendy as she walked away. "I get it."

Wendy stopped. Sunlight rippled through the clouds, catching the blue of her eyes. "Get what?"

Jim stared directly at her.

"I'm sorry Wen. I'm sorry about your mom."

Wendy's heart bled. Whether from sadness or happiness, she did not know. But, she knew that at long last, someone understood.

Gripping the jeans against her heart, she turned down the cliff path.

"Hey. Wendy Moria Angela Darling."

Again, Wendy turned.

Jim raised a hand. Snowflakes twinkled over his teal-grey eyes. "Happy Christmas."

Wendy smiled. "Happy Christmas, Jim."


	13. Chapter 13: The New Year

**sultal's note below**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13: The New Year<strong>

"—_Ten! Nine!_—"

"Ready?" Jim asked. He repositioned on Wendy's lap. "You have to do it when they all shout."

"—_Eight! Seven!_—"

Wendy tried not to throw up. She'd burned the needle. Iced Jim's ear lobe. Still, she felt sick. "Why when they all shout?"

_"—__Six! Five!_—"

"Because." Jim said, turning his head to look Wendy in the eye. "Because you are sticking a three inch needle through my ear. You think it's gonna feel good?"

"—_Four! Three_!—"

Wendy shook her head. "Jim, Jim, I don't think I can do this –"

"—Wen don't back out on me now! Just aim the needle!"

"—_Two!_—"

"Jim!"

"Wen!"

"—_One!_—"

"Ji—"

"Now!"

Wendy closed her eyes. She plunged the needle.

And both children screamed.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" The Benbow Inn exploded. Wine bottles were uncorked, cameras were flashed, shirts were pulled up, pants were pulled down, and anybody with lips was kissing. But the new year celebrations could not completely cover the shrieking from Jim's room.

"Wen!" Hopping up and holding the pillow case to his ear, Jim grabbed Wendy. Slapping a hand over her mouth, he lost balance, and both flopped onto Jim's bed. "Shh! Shh! Quiet! I'm not dead! I'm not – "

"Jim?" Mrs. Hawkins rapped on the door. "Jim. Honey? Are you all right in there?"

Both froze. Jim glanced fearfully at Wendy – the sleepover was secret. "I –er-um….noise woke me up. Everythings cool."

There was a pause. "Tell Wendy she has to sleep in my room." Mrs. Hawkins finally said, turning down the stairs. "We'll figure out something else for future sleep overs. Night kids."

Jim held his breath. Then, ear throbbing, he exhaled. He glanced down at Wendy.

Then, they both started to laugh.

"Shit, that hurt." Jim moaned, nursing his ear. "Come on. Help me get the earring in. No not that one. The loop."

With a second round of poking, twisting, dabbing, and disinfecting, the Jim and Wendy climbed to the rooftop. They sat, spying on the party-goer shenanigans, watching fireworks crackle across Fantasia, and admiring Jim's gold loop glinting in the starlight.

When the festivities faded, they lay back watching the stars through icy breaths.

Suddenly, Wendy turned to Jim. "Best friends?"

Jim snorted. His breath crystalized. "Duh."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Promise."

Wendy's eyes twinkled. Snuggling next to Jim, she breathed into the night sky. "Happy New Year."

Jim remained stoic. But, as stared at Fantasia's tiny northern star, christened by some The Wishing Star, he smiled.

Because with his new best friend, there was a fair chance that it would be a happy new year.

* * *

><p><strong>sultal's note: Well fanfiction, it has been a fantastic year. I have loved writing for all of you, sharing stories, sharing characters, creating...all that good stuff.<strong>

**I have had the pleasure of getting to know several of you. To those silent readers, thanks for the continued support. Stories are nothing without readers.**

**So...Happy Christmas. And Happy New Year. I have stories to finish (Taking Fantasia, AR&BB, The Dr and Neverland etc) and stories to start. And I can't wait to tackle this new year with all of you.**

**As always...**

**keep writing.**


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